A Tale of Two Royals
by xiao chan
Summary: AU: What do you get when you mix Prince Michael Moscovitz of Monaco, Princess Amelia Renaldo of Genovia, crazy royal families, ADD, and Hugh Jackman? A new xiao chan fic, that's what.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1  
Mia**

I am NOT high maintenance. Really, I'm not. A lot of people simply _think_ I am because I'm a princess and all. But that's just not true. I didn't even know I _was_ a princess until I was fourteen, and before then, I lived with the eccentric artist otherwise known as my mother. Anyways, bottom line, I'm pretty easy-going.

So where the HECK does His Royal Highness Michael Marcel Montague Moscovitz of Monaco get off calling me uppity? I mean, I know he's probably suffering from self-esteem issues garnered by his sadistically alliteration-happy royal parents, but he shouldn't take those issues out on a fellow royal that never did anything wrong to begin with.

"Amelia, let it go," my grandmother snapped. Grandmère was the one who had delivered the news that Mr. M&M&M&M refused his invitation for the traditional Genovian-Monacan exchange because he didn't like my public image. "He didn't expressly say that you were conceited. And besides, he is a monarch of his own country and is subject to international ridicule, you are free to think however you wish of him."

"He implied it! _And_, that's the difference between him and myself," I growled angrily. "I choose _not_ to judge people based on assumptions made by the media. I choose to _wait_ until I've actually _met the person_ before I decide whether or not I like him."

Grandmère rolled her eyes skyward. "Not all of us are as righteous as you, Amelia."

I faintly heard Francois covering the word "hypocrite" with a discreet cough. Rounding on him, I gave him my steely-eyed glare and said, "He has obviously revealed a part of his personality to me, and if I happen to pass him off as a condemnatory _jerk_, I would appreciate it if you did not question my methods!" And with that final word, I stomped off.

Alright, I might be lying to myself a little. Being called high maintenance doesn't really push my buttons. The reason I'm so worked up is because it's HRH Michael Moscovitz that's calling me high maintenance. And this wouldn't usually be a problem…except the fact that I have a minor crush on him.

Alright, maybe not so minor. Maybe I have a crush on him of astronomical proportions, and if I had to "devote my carnal treasure" to anyone, as my best friend, Tina Hakim Baba, puts it, it would be a toss-up between him and Hugh Jackman, because let's face it: Michael Marcel Montague Moscovitz might be a prince, but Hugh Jackman is Wolverine.

I threw myself onto my royal bed in my royal bedchambers and pulled my royal journal out from underneath my royal desk. Whipping out the royal purple pen, I wrote in big, bold, royal letters on the first clean page, "He may be hot, but he's a royal jerk."

**Michael**

"I don't understand why you don't want to go _meet_ her," my mother said huffily. "She's a very nice girl. I met her myself."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. She's a hoity-toity little princess that sees the world through rose-colored glasses, and if she can't have her way, she pitches a fit 'til she does."

"As opposed to a hoity-toity little prince that sees the world through designer Gucci glasses and punches people in the face to get his way?" My sister shot back. We may be family, but we don't necessarily get along, so her defending of Princess Amelia has nothing to do with her regards of the young monarch, more just to cut me down.

"It can't hurt to spend a _little_ time with her," my father coaxed. He was always the most reasonable of the family. He'd do his best to get me to be nice the young princess. For diplomatic reasons, anyway.

"There's a first time for everything," I shot.

My mother stood up and used her menacing five feet, nine inch stature to intimidate me while I was sitting down. Sadly, it was working. "Michael Marcel Montague Moscovitz, Monaco has had a very friendly relationship with Genovia since the First World War and I _refuse_ to let you ruin our cordial diplomatic ties! You are going and that is FINAL!" And with those last words, she stomped off, too angry to say another word.

After father went after her to try and calm her down, Lilly smirked at me and said, "Good going, hot shot."

"Shut up."

Okay, honestly? I don't think Princess Amelia's all that bad. In fact, I think she's kind of pretty.

Alright, alright. I think she's banging and I have this gigantic celebrity crush on her. There, happy? Everyone's entitled to a celebrity crush. Normal young men my age, however, have their celebrity crushes on girls like Jessica Alba and Britney Spears pre-crazy bitch days.

Me? I'm crushing on the future ruler of Genovia. So you could understand why my lackage of masochistic tendencies would prevent me from _wanting_ to spend two months in her palace, right? It's like dangling a Sarah Lee chocolate cheesecake in front of a desert junkie going on a diet.

But it doesn't matter anymore. Because I'm going anyway, and I have absolutely no say in the matter.

Lord, help my libido.

**Mia**

"Amelia?" My father asked distractedly. He was reading the telegram Albert gave him a few moments ago.

"Yes, Dad?" I asked as I daintily speared my baby spinach onto my fork. He wanted high maintenance? I'd show him high maintenance.

"It seems Prince Michael has changed his mind. He has accepted our invitation to stay with us for two months, and the Dowager Princess Camilla Moscovitz insists that they return the favor and house you for two months."

I nearly spit my water out my nose, but I held it. "What?" I asked as soon as I managed to compose myself.

"It's not at all uncommon, Amelia," he said as he set the telegram aside and continued eating. "There are only several times in history when Monaco has not returned the favor."

"But—but—"

"Amelia, that word is really quite vulgar and I refuse to have it at the dining table," my grandmother said with a severe stare down.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I turned to my father. "I don't have to go, do I?"

He gave me the Look and said, "Of course you're going."

I pouted. "Can I reject first, then accept after a day?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're being petty, Amelia, and I do not tolerate that in this palace. You're going, and that's final."

I pushed my plate away and got up. "I'm not hungry," I announced as I stalked out of the dining room and up the staircase to my room. What's Prince Michael's damage anyways? Can't he make up his mind? I paced the plush white carpet that blanketed the floor of my chambers in frustration and anxiety.

Crap. I forgot to ask when he's coming.

Well, whatever. I had to devise a plan immediately in order to keep my sanity around him while he was here. Not only was he too hot for his own good, he called me an uppity princess, so strategizing is definitely in order.

**Ways to avoid HRH Michael Moscovitz**  
1. Run the opposite direction every time I see him  
2. Get Tina to invite me to as many events as possible  
3. Try and head him off with Lars or Francois  
4.Explain to the staff that I really don't like him and try to get them to help me out  
5. Slip sleeping potions into his water at dinner so he falls asleep immediately

Note to self: get sleeping potions.

**Michael**

So, I'm gonna have to go after all.

Tomorrow.

You have got to be kidding me.

I was raiding my closet, throwing everything that was slightly decent to be seen in on the red carpet into my suitcase while my servants and the rest of the staff were helping me iron out stuff and packing everything else that I might have overlooked.

And crap, what am I gonna wear when I _get_ there? I have to look _perfect_; I don't want Princess Amelia to think I'm some sloppy loser.

As I began tossing jeans, shirts, and shoes across my room, the servants quickly jumped out of the way, but Lilly stepped into the crossfire. "Whoa, what are you doing?" She asked as she dodged a steel-toed boot.

"Looking for something decent to wear tomorrow. Get out."

She stepped out of Daniel's way, who had an armful of shoes and was stuffing them into one of my suitcases. "Don't you want some help from your fashion-minded little sister?"

At that I straightened up and gave her a suspicious look. She was rather fashion-minded and she knew what looked good. That didn't mean she necessarily followed the rules herself, she just knew them. "Ookay…"

She stood in front of my almost cleaned out closet and pulled out my lucky jeans, a green pinstriped, button-down shirt, a green sweater, a white tie with strategically placed green paint splotches all over it, and my tan corduroy blazer complete with green hi-top Converse.

I looked at her selection and had to admit, it was really good. I gave her a funny look and asked, "Okay, what's the catch?"

"Catch?" She repeated in confusion. "What catch?"

"I know you too well, Lil, you wouldn't help out if you didn't have something up your sleeve. Now what do you want?"

"Michael, you have some trust issues. Why is that?"

I rolled my eyes. Great, now she was psychoanalyzing me. "Because I have an insane, bipolar little sister. What do you want?"

"I really don't want anything. I actually wanted you to look good on your first day there. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," I replied simply.

"Fine!" She shouted as she walked out of my room. "Next time, I won't help you at all!" She slammed the door shut behind her.

I stared at the door in amazement. She actually didn't want anything. She just wanted me to look nice.

Note to self: make sure she doesn't have a temperature before I leave.

**Mia**

I woke up the next morning to an army of servants scurrying around the palace. "What's going on?" I asked Julia, my personal assistant.

She gave me a funny look and replied, "Prince Michael is coming today. Dowager Princess Clarisse insists that you look immaculate, so Paolo and Sebastiano are coming in—"

"Where is the princess?" Paolo demanded.

"Now," Julia said. She faded into the background as my stylists began to crowd around me, leaving me no breathing space whatsoever.

Okay. Officially PANICKING. He's coming TODAY? I didn't even get any sleeping potions!

Paolo and Sebastiano pushed me into my bathroom and demanded I scrub every inch of skin, because Sebastiano refused to let his Italian silk touch any unclean part of my body and Paolo had to work with a clean palette.

So after stepping out of my intense shower (because there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that if they found even a speck of dirt on my skin, they'd shove me back into the shower and make me clean myself again), Paolo attacked my rubbed raw red face and squeaky clean, passion fruit smelling hair. At the same time, Sebastiano was whipping out a dress from thin air and throwing it over my head.

A whirlwind two hours later, every single inch of my body was primped and polished and I was shoved out of my room and down the stairs to stand with my father and grandmother. "You look lovely," my father beamed and Grandmère gave a prim nod of approval.

I desperately wanted to scratch at my skin, but I dared not. Instead, I decided to live with the discomfort and waited in growing anxiety for Prince Michael's arrival.

I didn't have to wait too long, though, because just three minutes later, Alfred threw open the doors dramatically and announced, "His Royal Highness, Prince Michael Marcel Montague Moscovitz has arrived." Then he gave an extravagant wave of his hands and stepped aside to reveal the breathless beauty that was Prince Michael.

Oh, Lord.

**Michael**

I felt my stomach drop almost to my ankles as I caught sight of Princess Amelia. She was wearing a pale blue, silk sundress that stopped a few inches above her knees and stayed on her shoulders with thin spaghetti straps. There was a wide strip of dark blue that swathed from her left underarm to her right hip, and though the dress was simple, it was elegant and brought out her gray gaze, which, by the way, was highlighted with a shimmering mauve eyeshadow and lined with soft brown.

Forcing my saliva glands to start working, I took three shaky steps forward and shook Prince Philippe's hand. "Thank you for inviting me, Your Highness, and I am gravely sorry for declining at first. You see, I thought I would go to France this year with my family and—"

My father chuckled and clapped Prince Michael on the shoulder. "Son, you don't have to explain anything to me. I'm just glad that you could make it." I couldn't help but smile in relief. Thank God he didn't hold it against me.

I stepped towards Dowager Princess Clarisse and kissed her hand. "It is wonderful to finally meet the strong monarch that has led this wonderful country through such a time of prosperity."

Clarisse gave a throaty chuckle and raised one pencil thin eyebrow. "Oh, you're such a flatterer, young man. My granddaughter would be wise to stay away from you."

If I didn't know any better, I'd think this woman was flirting with me. Ew.

Last, but not least.

"Princess Amelia," I said with a voice that I hoped was calm and cool. I bowed and kissed her hand. "You look lovely. How many times did you change before you settled on this dress?"

MICHAEL! What the heck are you THINKING? I wanted to slap myself into submission, but Princess Amelia's facial expression had a similar effect. Her gray eyes hardened, and she said with a voice quivering with emotion, "For your information, Your Highness, I did not have a choice in my attire this morning. And I would appreciate it if you did not insult me in my own home." And with that, she turned on her Jimmy Choo heel and stomped off.

As my sister would say, good going, dip shit.

**A/N- Firstly, I would like to say that I cannot remember what Michael's actual middle name is, so for the sake of this story, his full name is Michael Marcel Montague Moscovtiz, okay?**

**Secondly, I would also like to say that I have not given up on my Supergirl Sequel, nor will I. I'm just going through really bad writer's block in terms of Take Me Away, and I figure the best way to get over it is to get back into the Princess Diaries fanfiction writing groove.**

**Thirdly, I would greatly appreciate a review so I know whether to continue with this crazy endeavor or not. Because if you guys don't like it, then there's really no point in updating.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2  
Mia**

Did you _hear_ the way he spoke to me? That little jerk! If he weren't the Prince of Monaco, I'd—I'd—I'd do something really bad to him!

No one talks to Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo like that and gets away with it! Not even Prince How-many-times-did-you-change-before-you-settled-on-that-dress.

Yeah, he's _so_ off Tina's and my list of hottest guys ever.

I didn't make another appearance until lunch when Julia threatened that if I did not start walking of my own accord, she would push me down the stairs and not care if I suffered a concussion, because it would therefore be my own fault. So to my dismay, I went to eat lunch in the gardens with my father, Grandmère, and Prince Michael.

"Well, Princess Amelia has finally decided to grace us with her presence," my father sniffed. He gave me a rather obvious glare, and I tried not to roll my eyes. Good, Dad. He's _definitely_ not gonna notice that.

"I wasn't feeling hungry this morning," I mumbled as I took my seat.

"I doubt that," Prince Michael smirked.

I shot him a glare and said, "So, Mikey—can I call you Mikey? How has your stay in the Genovian palace been thus far?"

"Very lovely, thank you. And I don't mind you calling me Mikey at all, as long as I get to call you Meels."

Where the heck does he get MEELS?

But of course, the stunning reply (note the sarcasm) I come up with is, "You can call me Mia."

Brilliant, Mia. Simply brilliant.

I watched a self-confident smirk spread across his face as he said, "Alright then. Mia it is."

No. The way he said my name is _not_ sexy.

Instead, I fixed him with a stare that I hoped was intimidating, but my grandmother smashed those dreams. She gave me a disgusted look and said, "Amelia, what are you doing? You look constipated. Do you need to visit the washroom?"

Before I could fix her with my constipated glare, Alfred stepped into the gardens and cleared his throat decisively. "Pardon the intrusion, but there is a Miss Tina Hakim Baba on the phone insisting to speak with Princess Amelia."

Grandmère's tattooed eyelids narrowed. If _I_ looked constipated, she looked like she wanted her money back for some bogus Lamaze lessons while giving birth to my father. "Alfred, we are having our lunch. Tell Miss Hakim Baba that Princess Amelia can call her back."

Alfred bit his lip nervously. "I understand, Your Highness, and you know I wouldn't interrupt lunch normally, but she insists that it's a matter of the utmost urgency."

A million different scenarios began running through my mind. What if she's dying? What if one of her siblings is dying? What if Boris is dying? Omigod, someone's dying!

"I better take this," I said shakily as I stood up and rushed into the palace to take the call. Inside, Julia handed me the phone with raised eyebrows. I said nothing to her, but brought the phone to my ear and immediately demanded, "Tina, what's happening?"

"I should be asking _you_ that question!" She pouted. "Prince Michael Moscovitz is spending TWO MONTHS at my best friends palace, and she completely neglects to tell me! I had to find out from some big haired anchor on CNN at the lunch hour report!"

I gritted my teeth. "Is that all you called for?"

"Um…yes."

I hung up and thrust the phone back into Julia's hands. "If she calls again, tell her I'm not here," I commanded and walked back out into the gardens to finish lunch.

**Michael**

Right when I was beginning to feel a little awkward about being left alone with Dowager Princess Clarisse and Prince Philippe, Mia came storming back into the gardens with the cloudiest look of irritation on her face.

"Is Tina alright?" Her father asked as she took her seat.

"Oh yeah," she replied through gritted teeth while spearing her baby spinach with a surprising vengeance. "Just peachy."

"What about you? You don't look too good," I said bluntly. She fixed me with a glare of utmost loathing, but said nothing in return.

"Amelia, what did she want?" Clarisse demanded.

"I hung up before I got to ask," she replied. She pushed her plate away, stood up and announced, "Excuse me," before turning around and strolling back into the palace, leaving me once again with Clarisse and Philippe.

Damn it, that girl's gonna pay.

* * *

"Prince Michael, how would you like a tour of the palace?" Philippe asked after the plates were cleared away.

"I would like one very much," I replied politely.

He beamed and said, "Julia? Please tell Mia that Prince Michael would like a tour of the palace. And if she refuses, tell her I'll withdraw the donations to Greenpeace."

Ooh. Hittin' below the belt, ain'tcha, Prince Philippe?

I followed Mia's cute personal assistant up the staircase and to a closed door on which Julia knocked quietly. "Princess?"

She threw open the door and poked her head through the crack. "Yes, Julia?"

"Your father demands that you give Michael a tour of the palace or he'll withdraw the donations to Greenpeace."

With a scowl, she stepped out of her room, into the hallway, and said to me, "Okay, this is the palace. You are currently standing in a hallway that's probably a billion years old." She stepped back into her room. "This is my room. And this is my door, slamming in your face."

SLAM.

Julia laughed and said, "Sorry, but I can't help you out. You'll have to talk to her." Still chuckling, she started walking down the hall, but not before calling out, "Good luck."

I stared at the door, trying to call upon my telekinetic powers to knock it down.

Man, if Stephen King was writing the story to my life, I'd be able to open this door in a snap. I'd also have Princess Amelia throwing herself at me and Osama Bin Laden would be dead.

But I digress.

"Princess, are you sure you want your father hearing about my wonderfully thorough tour?" I asked lightly. "Or would you like to try it again?"

I heard a sigh through the thick door and it opened again. She gave a defeated, "Alright," as she closed the door behind her and began to walk down the hall.

I followed her down the winding staircase and she began in the foyer. "This is the foyer. There isn't really much to say about it except for the fact that it's new."

The first floor was kind of boring, but the really good stuff came with the third floor. That's where everyone slept and Mia told me that they always kept the foreign dignitaries in the room in which I was currently residing. I didn't think that Genovia could be so...cool.

By the time we had gone around the entire palace, she turned to me and said frostily, "I hoped that quenched your seemingly undying thirst for knowledge of the layout of my palace. Do you have any other questions?"

"Um, yes—" But before I could tell her what my question was, we were interrupted by a sudden appearance of Alfred.

"Your Highness—"

"Which one?" We both asked.

"Er—Amelia," he said, a little thrown off. "We have a visitor for you."

She rolled her eyes. "If it's Tina, then—" 

"No, it's Mr. Kenneth Showalter."

She groaned. "Why is he here?"

"He insists upon seeing you," Alfred said with an apologetic smile.

All of a sudden, a short, skinny, and rather pale teenage boy with a dork-ish grin plastered across his face popped up from behind Alfred's back and gave Mia a small wave. "Hiya, Mia!" He called loudly.

I glanced at Mia and could tell she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Hi, Kenny. How are you?"

"Pretty good. I was hoping that—"

"I can't, I'm busy showing Michael around," she interrupted with a head jerk my way.

Immediately, I felt waves of hostility radiating from Kenny. "And you are?" He asked coldly.

Feeling the need to be an obnoxious jerk, I said in my snootiest voice, "I am Prince Michael Marcel Montague Moscovitz of Monaco. And you are?"

Kenny wasn't that much shorter than me, but he was drawing himself up to his full height, like a dog protecting his territory. "I am Kenneth William Showalter II, son of Sir Kenneth William Showalter I." He was shooting daggers from his eyes and I was readily accepting the challenge this pitifully small young man was posing.

"Now that you two are finished comparing yourselves to each other," Mia interrupted our stare down with a cold voice, "I'm going to retire to my bedroom and neither of you are to follow me."

"But—" Kenny started, completely forgetting me.

"I'm sorry, Kenny, butI'm tired and I want a nap." She left with a huff and Alfred chuckled, quietly walking down the staircase.

When she was gone, I turned back to Kenny who was ruthlessly glaring at me for all he was worth. "Look, hot shot. You stay away from my girlfriend, got it?"

"What, you mean Alfred?" I asked in confusion. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against gays, but I pride myself on having a very attuned gay-dar, and I could've sworn—

"No!" He growled. "I mean stay away from Mia!"

Wait a minute, Mia was going out with _this_? I used to eat kids like this for breakfast! What does she see in this puny little twerp? After a few moments of sheer astonishment, I asked, "Does she know she's your girlfriend?"

His eyes narrowed and I couldn't help but chuckle. Clarisse would say he looked constipated. "Yes, we are officially going out, not that I think it's _your_ business—"

"Look, dude, you were the one who informed _me_, alright? So don't blame me when I'm just trying to make sure that—"

"She's my girl, and you stay the hell away from her!"

My eyes narrowed. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a guy that treats his girlfriend like baggage, and Kenny here was starting to act like one of those guys. "Keep talking about her like that, she's not gonna be your girl for much longer," I said coolly, and walked off before Overbite over there could reply.

Geez, what a loser.

**Mia**

Kenny's such a dweeb.

I don't even know why I said yes when he asked me out. I don't even like him that way. He's just that sweet kid in my biology class that keeps gummy bears in his pocket and shares whenever I look depressed.

We need to break up. Seriously.

But geez, what was with that peeing-on-your-territory scene out in the hall about anyways? If Kenny really wanted to keep a girl, he should probably try not to be a total jerk to strangers that could likely kill him and escape with little to no repercussions.

I pulled out my journal and wrote at the top of the page:

**Pros of dating Kenny**  
1. Because he's the son of a Parliamentary member, he doesn't have to go through etiquette lessons or anything lame like that, and he knows everyone in the Genovian court, making him the perfect Royal Escort  
2. He gives me the answers to the biology homework  
3. The cook in his mansion actually _makes_ gummy bears, and those are _really_ good  
4. Grandmère likes him (but I guess that can double as a con)

**Cons of dating Kenny**

1. He might have taken ballroom dancing lessons, but he's horrible at it; he keeps stepping on my feet  
2. He doesn't like Baywatch  
3. He doesn't like cats  
4. I can't kiss him because…just ew  
5. He goes to the Anime Convention every year in costume and the people actually recognize him  
6. I just flat out don't like him

Clearly, the cons heavily outweigh the pros, therefore, a breakup is in order.

If only I had the guts to do it.

* * *

Dinner that evening was nothing special. By the time I had emerged from my room, Kenny had left, but not without a doggie bag from Adele, our cook.

When I got to the formal dining room and began dinner, my father cleared his throat ceremoniously and announced, "I would like to be the first to inform the two young people at this table that we are holding a Welcome Ball in honor of Prince Michael this Friday evening." He watched our faces expectantly; Michael was beaming, but I blanched.

"Dad, are you joking?" I asked fearfully. "Please tell me you're joking."

He grinned. "No joke, Mia. As Grandmère informed me, Sebastiano is already working on your gown."

"Gown?" I whispered faintly. Oh, how I cringed at that word.

Michael noticed my shiver and smiled. "What, you scared of a dress? I thought princesses loved dressing up."

I shot him a withering glare. "For your information, I hate dressing up, _especially_ for balls."

"Not even for Kenny?" He asked with a sinister grin.

"Oh, will Kenneth be coming?" Grandmère asked, her voice suspiciously getting brighter. "I always liked that young man. Good head on his shoulders."

"Comes from good stock, too," my father added. "Did you meet him, Michael?"

He nodded, and I could tell that he was trying not to grimace. "I did. He's very devoted to Princess Amelia."

I was pulling out the awkward turtle right underneath the table. And was it just me, but was he giving me a curious stare underneath that smirk?

"Why are we talking about Kenny?" I asked shakily. "Shouldn't you guys be discussing the plans for this ball? Ask Michael what his favorite foods are and such?"

"We already did, Amelia," my father said with a smile. He obviously thought I cared for Prince Michael's comfort here. As Grandmère would say, _pfft_.

**Michael**

Aw, these people are _so nice_. They're throwing me a ball as a welcome here, how sweet is that?

Please note the sarcasm.

Hell, I guess it's not their fault. I mean, after all, that's how royals celebrate. They throw a ball and expect the younger adults to have fun. Well, I could tell from the look on Mia's face that she was far from thrilled, and honestly, I don't blame her. Balls were never exactly my thing, but who am I to refuse?

After dinner, I went back to my chambers and looked around at the clean, almost hotel-like décor. No expense was spared on my behalf; I had a fully stocked mini fridge, soft pillows, clean sheets, and my favorite soaps and shampoos were stocked in the bathroom.

I threw myself onto my king sized bed and turned on the plasma screen TV, ready for an evening of complete boredom. Right when I was starting to faze out of consciousness while still managing to keep my eyes open, I heard a soft knock on my door.

Curiously, I got off the bed and opened the door. Standing before me with her arms crossed and a frown on her face was none other than Princess Amelia. Feeling my heart start to pound and my palms begin to sweat, I swallowed and said with my coolest, most composed voice, "Your Highness, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"My father wants me to spend some quality time with you," she growled.

I raised my eyebrows. "Tell me how you really feel."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I'll just tell him you were asleep, then we'll _both_ be happy."

She turned round to leave, but I grabbed her hand before she got away. "Wait, why don't you just come in and we can talk? That way, you don't have to lie."

She sighed and nodded, following me into my room and taking the seat in front of the desk. I turned off the TV and faced her.

"So…" she trailed off.

"So…" I replied, just to tick her off. She looked so cute when she got worked up.

"What's your favorite color?" She asked.

"Blue. Yours?"

"Pink's good."

I smirked. "I didn't think you were that much of a girly girl, but yet again, Princess, you prove me wrong."

She bristled, just as I predicted. "There is nothing wrong with the color pink. It is a lovely hue and is appropriate for any and all occasions."

"Like funerals, huh?"

She ignored me and turned her gaze outside the window. I was too busy admiring her profile to hear her next question. "Huh?" I asked distractedly.

She rolled her eyes. "I asked you, what's your favorite movie?"

"Star Wars," I replied promptly. "The Original Star Wars trilogy. You?"

"Dirty Dancing," she replied.

"Really?"

"I love Patrick Swayze's character in that movie."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Let me guess, because he's cute?"

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing. It just proves my point that girls don't really care about the plot anymore. As long as the movie's got a hot actor in it, they'll come running."

Her eyes narrowed. "For your information—"

"Is that your favorite phrase or something?" There was a little voice in my head that was screaming at me to quit, but being the idiot that I was, I refused. "You don't have to inform me every time I make a statement, Princess."

"I happen to like many movies, and _not_ because the leading man is cute!" She shouted. Now she was getting really worked up.

"Really? Then how about you give me an example?"

"I don't need to prove myself to you, Prince Michael!" She spat.

"You're just making an excuse because you can't think of something."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I'm superficial."

"Oh, right. I forgot," I sneered. "You're going out with Kenny, and you certainly can't like him for his looks."

"Kenny is twice the man you will EVER be!" She screamed. I finally managed to make her lose it and now, I was ready to piss my pants. "Don't you dare insult my boyfriend because he's a sweet guy. He knows how to make a girl feel like a princess, unlike you. He isn't spoiled, he isn't self-centered, and he doesn't get his thrills by insulting girls who never did anything wrong! So you just shut up!" And with that, she stormed out of my room and slammed the door on her way.

I fell backwards onto my bed and sighed. Michael, can't you ever learn to shut your mouth?

**A/N- First, I absolutely LOVE the reviews! I love the positive feedback, so for you guys I'm definitely continuing, as you can see. Second, I'm leaving on vacation tomorrow, so I'm not gonna be able to update until I get back. And you know what I absolutely love seeing in my inbox after a loooong time of not checking my email? Reviews! So please leave one.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3  
Mia**

I came to a resolution when dealing with His Royal Pain-in-the-butt. I'm simply going to ignore him. I won't even acknowledge his presence in the world. If I see him walking down the hall and he waves at me, I will look the other direction and go on my way. And if my plan works the way I know it will, his stay will be much more pleasurable for me.

And luckily for me, I have a date with Kenny today, so I won't have to spend much time in the palace while the staff gets ready for Prince Michael's fancy ball.

I was running down the staircase in a pair of jeans and a nice white top and my favorite sneakers when Julia spotted me. "Excuse me, Your Highness," she held her hand out to stop me, her eyebrows jumping up into her forehead. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going on a date with Kenny. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late."

With a quizzical look, she stated, "You never were this energetic to go out on a date with Mr. Showalter before."

I tried to let my exasperation bleed through my voice. "He's my boyfriend, Julia, and I'm trying to be a good girlfriend to him. He deserves that."

"Okay, that's it," she said as she grabbed my arm and forcefully led me back to my room. "Something's wrong and I'm not letting you leave this palace until you tell me."

"I'm fine!" I cried while fruitlessly struggling against her iron grip.

"No you're not," she insisted grimly as she threw open the door to my chambers and threw me into a chair. "What's going on?"

I glared at her resentfully and replied, "Nothing's going on. I was just going to meet Kenny at the theater, but now I'm gonna be late thanks to my paranoid personal assistant."

"Mia," she began warningly. She gave me that look that told me I wasn't going anywhere until I spilled. And the worst part was, I usually did.

"Fine!" I cried melodramatically. "I'm trying to get out of the palace."

She rolled her eyes. "I assumed as much. Why?"

"I'm trying to get away from Prince Michael," I muttered almost inaudibly, but I knew she heard it.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

Before I could stop myself, I spilled the whole, disgusting story of what happened last night in his room. Julia clucked sympathetically during certain parts and shook her head at Prince Michael's insensitive comments. When I was finished, she asked, "Is that why you're trying to avoid him?"

I nodded.

"Well, sweetie, as your friend, I'd say that the best thing for you to do is to keep your head held up high. He's forcing you to run away, but princesses don't run away."

"He's not forcing me to run away. I'm running away of my own accord. And besides," I said, preparing to leave, "this is the only way I can think of to deal wit him. If I just ignore him, he'll leave me alone. Anyways, I've gotta go, Julia. I'll see you later, alright?"

**Michael**

I feel like such a jerk.

Should I apologize? Yeah, I should apologize. Or not. Should I apologize? Apologizing is a skill that I need to acquire before I take the throne, or so my mother keeps reminding me. But what if she doesn't accept my apology? What I insulted her so much that she'll hold a grudge forever? Diplomatic relations would be seriously complicated…oh geez.

I screwed up big time.

On my way back from lunch, I ran into Julia in the hallway. "Oh, hey, Julia, have you seen Mia around? I was hoping I could talk to her—"

"She went on a date with Kenny, so she won't be home until after dinner," she cut in briskly. "You can apologize tomorrow."

"Thank—wait a minute," I said suspiciously. "How did you know I was gonna apologize to her?"

She looked up from her clipboard and over the glasses that were primly perched on the bridge of her nose. "Mia told me about the whole ordeal that transpired between the two of you last night, and I feel obligated to inform you that she was quite distressed." My heart sunk, but Julia's lips lapsed into a small smile. "However, you don't exactly strike me as the type to ruthlessly destroy someone's self-esteem without feeling terrible about it, so I am assuming that is why you want to talk to her?"

I nodded, a little shocked from her speech. "Do you think she'll forgive me?" I asked anxiously.

Julia shrugged. "She's resolved to completely ignore you, and she can be very stubborn when she wants to be, but…I don't know. Just in case, be prepared to work very hard."

I nodded. I suspected as much. "Thanks, Julia."

She grinned and winked. "No problem, kid. Just try not to be such a pain in the ass." And with that, she walked off down the hallway, glancing down at her clipboard every so often.

Damn it, I didn't know I upset her that much. There's seriously something wrong with me.

But if she thinks she can ignore me, she's got another thing coming. I'm gonna be the most un-ignorable person in the world, and there is no way she's gonna be able to avoid me.

* * *

"Ah, Your Highness! I am glad you are here," a flamboyant little man cried when he spotted me. He looked like a butterfly; no, seriously, he actually had silk wings on his back.

"Michael, this is Sebastiano, Amelia's cousin and renown fashion designer," Clarisse explained as she puffed on her cigarette. "He will be designing your suit for your ball."

"Oh, okay," I said in what I hoped was a cheerful voice. I was a little doubtful of what a man with psychedelic wings sewn on the back of his shirt could produce, but Clarisse seemed to trust him and she struck me as the type that could be very picky.

"I shall need to measure you," he declared as he clapped his hands and a little boy, about eight-years-old held out a tape measure. Sebastiano took it and wrapped it around my chest. He called out the measurements and his small assistant took them down. He had me contorted into the strangest positions, too; first he had me put both my arms over my had like a ballerina, then he had me bend over at the waist holding my left arm out and my right arm over my head. Then he had me bending at the knees with one arm hanging down and the other wrapped around my shoulders. When I asked him why he insisted on putting me in all these weird positions, he sniffed, "It is so I can see how you move, how you hold yourself! With my observations, I will find a suit that will give justice to your movements. Now, I want you to put your left leg up and your right arm bent over your head. Yes, yes, very good!"

When Sebastiano declared that he had all the information he needed, he shook my hand soundly and walked out of the palace, his little assistant scurrying behind him.

"He's a genius, Michael," Clarisse assured me with a sip of her sidecar. "You will look magnificent at the ball."

After all that, I better, I thought grumpily.

**Mia**

The date, like many with Kenny, had its ups and downs. I didn't mind it when he insisted on paying for my ticket and my popcorn. I didn't mind it when he reached for my hand in the movie theater. What I _did_ mind was him trying to make out with me in the dark. I know most couples aren't usually concerned with the plot for movies anymore, but I happened to be extremely drawn into the film.

After the movie, however, we were just strolling down the street hand-in-hand. I have to admit, it was nice, except for the fact that his palm was kind of sweaty, but that can be overlooked. I have found that I like Kenny the most when he's not trying. Or talking.

When we reached the palace, I asked him if he would be my escort to the ball on Friday. His face lit up in happiness and he said yes. Of course. I hadn't really expected him to say no, but if he did, I don't think I would have been too torn up.

I have to break up with him. I really do.

As soon as I walked into the palace I was ambushed by none other than Prince Michael himself. "Hiya, Mia!" He cried in a distinctly Kenny-esque voice.

Remembering my resolution this morning, I huffed past him and up the staircase to my chambers. I'll give you three guesses as to what he did next.

That's right. He followed me. Bravo, you get a cookie.

"Why so glum, Princess? Turn that frown upside down!" He shouted in an annoyingly upbeat tone. Turning to stare at him like a mad lunatic wouldn't constitute as ignoring, so I didn't, no matter how much I wanted to.

"Was it Kenny?" He continued, ignoring my attempt to ignore him.

That's none of your business, I thought through gritted teeth.

"I bet it was," he said, acting like we were having a perfectly rational conversation. "He strikes me as the kind of boyfriend that can't do anything right, no matter how hard he tries."

Why was my room so far away?

"And you know what else?" He said with the air of someone who was speaking confidentially with his best friend. "I think you should break up with him. You two don't really match. My sister said that the best significant others usually match complexions. He's too pale for you."

Ha! I can see the door to my chambers.

"I bet Clarisse told you that one day, your face will freeze like that, didn't she? If she didn't, I feel it my duty to inform you that your face will indeed paralyze in that rather uncomfortable position if you continue to look like that for long."

My hands were beginning to curl up into fists. Just a few more steps, Mia. Just a few more steps.

"To be honest, Princess, I'm surprised you'd want to go out with a skinny twerp like Kenny. I bet you didn't know he threatened me after you left the two of us in the hall yesterday, did you? Yeah, he told me, and this is a direct quote, 'you keep away from my girl!' I dunno, but that sounds like some old fashioned male chauvinism to me."

I reached out and twisted the doorknob. Just a few more seconds—

"But, um, anyways, that's not really...that's notwhy I wanted to talk to you. I, uh…" he trailed off.

Despite my better judgment, I stopped and waited. I didn't turn to look at him, so it wasn't _technically_ breaking my decision to ignore him, but I wasn't not ignoring him either. If that makes any sense.

"I, um…well, I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. My behavior was uncalled for and I hope that you'll forgive me…and stuff…so…yeah…"

Without comprehending the utter foolishness of my actions, I did something completely stupid, even by my own standards.

I turned around and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before ripping the door to my chambers open and running inside before my face exploded in embarrassment.

**Michael**

Okay, so it wasn't necessarily the most brilliant apologies in the history of apologies, but you have to admit, it was successful.

As soon I was in my own chambers and out of sight of anyone who could see me, I did a little victory dance. She kissed me! She kissed me! Albeit, it was on the cheek, but that doesn't matter. It still constitutes as a kiss.

Wait, what does this mean? Does that mean she forgives me? You wouldn't give someone a kiss on the cheek after he apologizes if you didn't mean to forgive him, would you? Right?

This is all so confusing. If I were on better terms with my sister, I would call her to ask what this all means, but seeing as how I'm not, that's not an option. Do I just assume? Is it okay if I knock on Mia's door and ask her if she's forgiven me?

I'm being ridiculous. Of course she's forgiven me.

But girls are weird. They say something, then do something else completely different. Once, I was going out with this girl named Judith and I ordered some escargot at a fancy French restaurant. We had a nice date and everything, but when I called her the next day, she informed me (very coldly, I might add) that she did not like the way I treated mollusks. I thought the whole thing was ridiculous, so I told her I didn't like the way she treated strawberries. Then she hung up on me.

Anyways, the point of that story is that girls' minds just work in weird ways.

I'm gonna have to find out if she really meant that.

* * *

Wewere all sitting inthe formal dining room, waiting for the soup course to be served when Clarisse announced, "Sebastiano will be arriving shortly to fit you for your gown, Amelia."

I could see the groan in her eyes, even if she didn't make a sound. "He's not gonna put me in all those weird positions again, is he? I would have figured the first three times, he would have gotten a good picture, but—"

"Never insult an artist's methods, Amelia," Clarisse interrupted coldly. He is your cousin and an up and coming fashion designer. Soon all those clothes in your closet will be priceless collector's items and you'll be glad you have them."

Mia cleverly disguised her rolling eyes and said, "Lucky me."

"Oh, and also, you will be accompanying Prince Michael at the ball."

"What?" My heart sank at her slightly panicked tone. Maybe she didn't forgive me after all. "What if Prince Michael wants someone else to escort him?"

Not really, I thought glumly.

"This is tradition, Amelia. You know everyone in the Genovian court, so you must accompany and introduce him to our political leaders."

"I would know who everyone was if I was paying attention," she muttered quietly to herself. "But what if Michael has someone else he wants to escort to the ball?"

"It's tradition," she repeated simply.

"But what if _I_ have someone else I want to take to the ball? I already asked Kenny to be my escort."

"Then you'll just have to explain the situation to him," Clarisse said as if it were the simplest concept in the world. "Kenneth is a very patient young lad. He'll understand."

She said nothing else on the subject, but quickly excused herself immediately after the desert plates were cleared away. I followed suit and ran off to her chambers before she had the chance to slam her door in my face.

"Mia, wait," I pleaded as I knocked on her door.

I could almost feel her reluctance as she opened her door a fraction of an inch and looked at me with one her gray eyes. "What do you want, Michael?"

I took a deep breath. "I—I just wanted to know if you forgave me this afternoon or not," I said quickly before the little courage I had gathered disappeared altogether.

She mumbled something incoherent. "Sorry? I didn't quite get that."

I heard her clear her throat and reply, "I forgave you, okay? Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make a phone call."

After she closed her door, I punched the air with my fist. She forgave me! Haha!

**A/N- I'm back! And I got all of you something too: a new chapter. No need to thank me, but reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N- I can only say, yes, this chapter is looong overdue.**

**Disclaimer: These things usually go at the beginning of fanfictions, but whatever. I don't own Princess Diaries, but I am waiting for the king and queen of a distant country to come to me and inform me that I am actually the princess and one day Michael will be mine. Eat your heart out.**

**Oh, and I also don't own "Sway" by Vanessa Carlton.**

**Chapter 4  
Mia**

I took a deep, steadying breath and dialed Kenny's number from memory. After three rings, he picked up. "Hello?"

"Kenny? It's me."

His voice grew warm. "Hey, Mia. What's up?"

I took another breath because the one I took before dialing just didn't seem to do the trick. "I'm sorry, Kenny, but…" I gulped. "But…"

"But what, Mia?" he encouraged. And that was what killed me. The hope in his voice. That stupid, naïve, innocent hope that just crushed my will.

"I have to accompany Prince Michael at the ball this Friday," I finished, somewhat lamely. "So, I can't let you take me."

It could have been the static on the phone, but I could've sworn he growled. "Mia, I don't like him," he said grudgingly. "Something about him just…rubs me the wrong way."

I rolled my eyes, glad that we were speaking over the phone. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't _want_ to accompany him."

"Just a little," he said, though I could still hear the annoyance in his tone.

After an awkward silence, I finished, "So…I guess I'll see you later, okay?"

"Um, Mia?"

"Yes, Kenny?"

"I love you."

In retrospect, I realize that my reaction wasn't exactly comforting to Kenny, but my primary concern at the time was my own comfort. As soon as I gained control of my mind, I hung up and threw the phone across the room like it was infected with leprosy.

What does he mean when he says he loves me? Does he love me like the little sister he never had, or does he love me like he'll never let go, love me? If it's the latter, then I need to move back to New York.

Deciding to break my resolution to not talk to Tina after her bout of stupidity, I picked up the phone and dialed her number with lightning fast fingers. This was definitely an emergency and only Tina would realize the extremity of the situation. As soon as she picked up the phone, I shouted, "He loves me!"

"Who?"

"Kenny! He just told me he loved me!"

"Wait, am I supposed to be happy for you or completely grossed out?"

"This is horrible! I can barely stand him! Why am I going out with him?"

"I'm guessing the latter."

"What do I do?"

"Break up with him."

"I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because he loves me!"

"Um, Mia, I can almost guarantee that if you break up with him, he won't love you anymore. It might take him a while, but he'll get over it."

I groaned. "I never meant for it to go this far." I threw myself facedown into my pillows and muttered, "I swear, 'Oops, I did it again' should be playing in the background."

"I could put it in right now if you want," Tina said helpfully.

I sighed and after a few moments of silence, I asked her, "So, if I break up with him he'll stop loving me?"

"Like I said, it'll take him a while to get over it, but it'll happen eventually."

"What do I tell him?"

"Well first, you have to do it in person."

I groaned again. "Why can't I just tell him over the phone?"

I could practically hear her nose wrinkling on the other end. "Because that's tacky and cold-hearted, and you, Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, know better than that."

"Alright, alright. What do I say?"

"Make it incredibly clichéd, that way he knows that there is absolutely no chance in your mind that the two of you can get back together. Say stuff like, 'it's not you, it's me', or 'we're better as friends'."

"Tina?"

"Yes, Mia?"

"I don't want to break his heart, but I'm afraid I will."

"I know you don't. But you're not happy, and if he really loves you, then he'd let you go."

"That's so idealistic."

"But it's so true."

**Michael**

The next day at breakfast, Prince Philippe suggested that Mia take me out on the town so we'd get to know each other better. Surprisingly, Mia didn't object. She just nodded and went back to her eggs.

I was practically shaking with excitement. Mia was taking me out on the town. It was just us, some quality alone time. Insert waggling eyebrows here.

So after breakfast, I met Mia in the foyer. She was standing there, looking clean and beautiful and impatient all at once.

"What took you so long?" she demanded crossly. "I've been waiting for ten minutes."

"Sorry," I apologized cheerfully. "My socks were trying to eat me."

"Too bad it didn't work," I heard her mutter under her breath as she turned and opened the door.

We walked down the palace steps when one of the servants brought around a bright red Camaro. Now, I'm not one of those guys that has engines and jumper cables between the ears, but even I could tell that this was a nice car. "Wow," I breathed.

Mia nodded appreciatively. "Yeah, I like it too. My dad got it for me when I moved here, as a sort of compensation for the whole princess thing."

Pulling the keys out of her pocket, she walked to the driver's side of the car. Being the courteous little Prince I am, I asked, "Do you want me to drive?"

She shook her head. "Nah, that's okay. Besides, you don't know where we're going."

"Okay."

Two minutes later, I was regretting the fact that I didn't pin Mia to the ground and wrench the keys from her hands.

"Mia," I asked through gritted teeth as I grabbed what I like to refer to as the Oh-Shit handle attached to the roof of the car, "you do know there's such a thing as a _speed limit_, right?"

I swear I saw a manic gleam sparkle in her eyes. "Cha, for losers without diplomatic immunity," she sniffed as the car zoomed forward and I was once again thrown back into my seat. I think the imprint of my body is still embedded in the leather.

When she finally came to a screeching halt, I slowly opened my eyes and looked around warily. "We're here, right? We're not just stopping at a red light waiting for it to turn green, then speed off to my death again?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, we're here."

Cautiously, I sat up in the seat and opened the door and looked around. She brought me to downtown Genovia, littered with quaint little porcelain shops filled with lace doilies and cutesy stuffed pink kittens with jewel bright eyes. Very kitschy.

"You took me to look around at a bunch of granny stores?" I asked incredulously. Did she really hate me _that_ much?

She gave me a withering glare and said, "No."

She said nothing else but merely walked into one of the stores. Fighting the urge to growl impatiently, I followed her inside.

The place itself looked more nauseating then a Hallmark store. Shelves ran around the walls of the inside holding delicate little figurines. Racks of cards for every occasion lined the aisles and cute and cuddly little stuffed animals with bright silky ribbons tied around their necks were piled together on a large table in the corner.

"Uh, Mia, this looks like a granny store to me," I said resentfully. I know she might not like me that much, but geez, was she trying to make my stay here as miserable as possible?

"Michael, I know this might be weird for you to hear, especially since the day you were born, everything was handed to you on a silver platter, but if you _wait_, you'll realize that there's more to this place than meets the eye."

At that point, a plump and good-natured attendant popped up from the backroom and waved at Mia from behind the glass case filled with ornaments made of crystal. "Hello, Your Highness! To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Hi, Karen. Is Owen in?"

Karen the attendant winked and said, "Of course! Go right on in!"

"Thanks," she said with a warm smile and gestured for me to follow her.

I followed her through a door that led to the bathrooms and was greeted by a hallway with three more doors: two bathrooms and one unmarked. I glanced at Mia questioningly but she simply continued on through the unmarked door and I followed. The sight that met my eyes made my jaw drop.

I walked into a teeming…nightclub? I guess you could call it that. There was a huge, circular bar with two bartenders juggling bottles and pouring their contents theatrically into glasses. Surrounding the bar was a dance floor and on the far side of the expansive room was a gigantic stage with flashing spot lights in the dim room. Teenagers were crowded on the dance floor, moving to the wild techno beat.

Out of nowhere, Mia reached behind her and grabbed my hand. I assumed that she was making sure I didn't get lost in the crowd of people, but the gesture made my breathing stop. Just the touch of her skin made my heart beat faster and my fingers tingle at the contact. She led me to the bar and she took the seat right in front of the blonde bartender.

"Princess!" he shouted. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked as he poured a clear liquid into a martini glass.

She smiled. "Hi, Owen. Just showing Prince Michael around."

Owen's glance was redirected to where I was sitting. "Hey, I'm Owen, the bartender and welcome to GiGi's underage club. Music for all tastes and the best virgin booze in Europe."

I continued to take in my surroundings in awe. "How did a place like this end up behind a granny store?"

Owen gave me an amused look and replied, "Karen owns the lot behind her shop and I wanted to run a place where teens could hang out and just be. She thought it was a good idea, so in exchange for a few odd jobs in the store and five percent of what we earn, she rents out this spot to me."

"Wow."

"Want anything?" he asked us.

"Um, I'll just have a water," I said. He pulled out a bottle of water from underneath the bar and slid it over to me while I handed him a dollar.

"Strawberry Daiquiri, please," Mia said daintily.

He winked one of his ocean blue eyes at her. "Coming right up."

Sudden disdain for the man in front of me began to flow through my veins. I disliked him greatly for simply winking at Mia, although I'm sure she wasn't the first or last girl who would receive a wink.

**Mia**

I sipped on my glass and glanced around at the crowd dancing in the fluorescent lights. I wanted to join them, but I was afraid that I would take out several people with my dancing skills, or more accurately, lack thereof.

Like he was reading my mind, Michael grabbed my wrist and I swear he could have felt my pulse quicken underneath his fingertips. "Let's go dance," he said with a gleam in his eyes.

I regained my ability to breathe while I shook my head. "I'm not a good dancer."

"Neither is anyone else out on that dance floor," he insisted as he gestured to the crowd. "No one will notice. Come on, let's dance."

Reluctantly, I slid off my barstool and let Michael lead me through the throng, his long, cool fingers still gripping my wrist. He took me to the center and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him. We didn't let the beat of the music dictate our own; instead, we swayed gently, back and forth with our bodies pressed against each other.

I would never actually admit this to Michael himself, but dancing with him was really nice. Maybe it was because he didn't expect me to shake and gyrate for him like the rest of the girls on the dance floor were doing, or maybe because he held me firmly enough to show everyone that I was with him, but gently enough to show he wasn't demanding anything of me.

Dancing with Michael was so much more different than dancing with Kenny. Whenever I try to dance with Kenny at school dances, he tries to show off his sense of rhythm, or lack thereof. Even at formal balls, he keeps stepping on my feet, and no amount of ballroom dancing lessons can remedy that. Michael, on the other hand, has a very soft sense of rhythm and dance. He's not boasting about it, he just wanted to make me feel comfortable. And it was very sweet of him.

The song changed to something piercing and dark.

_My heart, your hands, gentle my friend  
Break me neatly, numb me sweetly_

Halfway through the dance, I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Those piercing, dark brown orbs were like peat bog; they sucked me in. I couldn't look away, but in hindsight, I don't think I wanted to.

_Say you would, say you could  
Say you'd come and stop the rain  
Say you'd try and hold me tight  
And you just give me away_

The rest of the dance was sort of a haze. I couldn't remember anything else going on around us, just what Michael was doing to me. I remembered that his face was close…so close. I could have counted his eyelashes.

_Make me high on lullabies  
A melody for me to sway  
Say you would, say you could  
And you don't do anything_

His fingertips were emanating their warmth into the small of my back that made my skin tingle at the contact. I twirled my fingers through the silky locks on the base of his neck, gently brushing his warm skin and feeling the electric pulses run up my arms and raise goosebumps.

_Come down heavy, try and steady  
Precious ladies, love you, love me…_

Soap mingled with his distinctly masculine scent that contributed to the fog pulled over my brain. I inhaled deeply, loving the smell of him.

_Say you would, say you could_  
_Say you'd come and stop the rain  
__Say you'd try and hold me tight  
__And you just give me away  
__Make me high on lullabies  
__A melody for me to sway  
__Say you would, say you could  
__And you don't do anything_

He was intoxicating. And he was dangerous.

_Hold my head up to the lies that you feed me  
I'll fall under the spell you cast as you let me down_

Dangerous because he made me forget that I was a princess. Because he made me forget I had a boyfriend. Dangerous because he made me want something I never knew I wanted.

_Say you would, say you could_  
_Say you'd come and stop the rain  
Say you'd try and hold me tight  
And you just give me away  
Make me high on lullabies  
A melody for me to sway  
Make me high on lullabies a melody for me to sway_

I rested my head on his shoulder and felt his breathing in my ear. I shivered and I felt him press his body closer to mine at my reaction.

_Say you would, say you could_  
_Say you'd come and stop the rain  
Say you'd try and hold me tight  
And you just give me away  
Make me high on lullabies  
A melody for me to sway  
Say you would, say you could  
And you don't do anything_

His lips grazed across a sensitive spot under my ear and I almost fell limp in his arms. I turned my head and watched his lips.

_Say you'd come and stop the rain…  
Say you'd come and stop the rain…  
Say you'd come and stop the rain…_

The song drifted away and quite suddenly became the techno beat from before. Good thing too. A few more moments of that and I would have been kissing him. Though now, I don't know if I would have regretted it.

**Michael**

I don't care what Mia says, she's an amazing dancer. After that sensual song, we both decided to leave GiGi's and go back to the palace. Even after we left the intoxicating atmosphere, I was still shaking and I could barely walk.

We didn't talk on the car ride home, which gave me time to think and examine my feelings. I kept thinking about how she felt in my arms. She reminded me of a feather, soft but delicate. She was innocent, yet full of passion. She was warm and sweet and I didn't want to let her go. She just seemed to fit in my arms. It was perfect.

When we got back to the palace we each went to our separate rooms and I lay on my bed until it was time for dinner. Mia was suspiciously absent, but I informed the royal family with utter sincerity that I had a lovely in downtown that day.

And the loveliness came from Mia.

**A/N- Michael's bit at the end is short, but I thought it was important to show how Michael felt about the dancing before the next chapter. Next chapter is going to be Michael's welcome ball, but I wanted to show a little sensuality before then. (wink)**

**I love reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5  
Mia**

I think I'm losing my mind, because I _think_ that I actually _enjoyed_ dancing with Prince Michael Moscovitz of Monaco. But that can't be possible because he's an annoying, arrogant little jerk that thinks I'm a hoity-toity princess with a stick up my butt to help improve my posture.

I touched the part of my ear he had kissed and felt the goosebumps run up my arm once again. If he was just kissing my ear, imagine how it would feel when he kissed me on the lips.

Wait, why am I saying _when_? Michael's never gonna kiss me! First of all, we hate each other, and second of all, I HAVE A BOYFRIEND! A perfectly nice, normal, sweet boyfriend who cares for me and doesn't think that I'm high maintenance. Trouble is, I just don't like this boyfriend of mine.

I wanted to be back on that dance floor, dancing with him, letting my body speak for me in ways that I knew I could never put into words. I wanted to be enveloped in his scent all over again. I wanted to get lost in his dark eyes, I wanted to run my hands through his hair. I wanted…I wanted…

Okay, I should stop now before I go completely crazy.

Like I said before: Prince Michael is dangerous.

* * *

"Okay, your gown is on your bed, Paolo's coming at five, the florists are downstairs, and the chefs are working in the kitchen. Is there anything else that I've forgotten?" Julia asked distractedly.

I shrugged, not looking up from my salad. "I'm not the assistant, you are."

She growled in frustration. "You're not helping!" she screamed as she stormed off to go check on something, even though I was pretty sure she had all the bases covered.

Prince Michael's welcome ball was that evening and the entire palace staff was running around for last minute preparations. From what I could tell, the ballroom looked magnificent, but I had only been in this business for a year or so, so my experience was limited.

I was eating lunch in the gardens by myself for once. Grandmère was helping with the preparations and father was tending to some foreign matter that didn't involve me. I didn't know where Prince Michael was and that helped to calm me a great deal. I had been avoiding him for the past couple of days and I could only assume he was doing the same to me.

Last night, I reluctantly told Tina what happened at GiGi's and her scream was still echoing in my head.

"Oh my God, Prince Michael KISSED YOU?"

Slowly bringing the phone back to my ear, I said, "Not really. He just sorta…brushed his lips against my ear."

"Oh my God, HE KISSED YOUR EAR!"

"Tina, calm down," I pleaded. "I don't want the entire country to hear about it."

"Tell me everything!"

"I already did. Look, it was probably a mistake, alright? There was no way that he would have _wanted_ to kiss me, much less dance with me. I was the only person he knew there."

Tina made a sort of clucking noise with her tongue and said, "Mia, you are _so_ naïve. He was _obviously_ caught up in the moment!"

I didn't want to talk about it anymore, so I changed the subject. "You're coming tonight, right?"

"I wouldn't miss Prince Michael for the world!" she squealed.

I brought my mind back to where I was and sighed. I couldn't avoid him tonight, seeing as how I was his escort. Maybe I could fake illness? But Grandmère would see through that. There was no getting out of it.

And to add to my worries, Kenny was going to be there, so I would probably be spending the night trying to make sure he and Michael didn't get into a fight.

Yeah, I'm not looking forward to this.

**Michael**

"Okay, so let me get this straight. Princess Amelia took you to an underage nightclub and the two of you danced," Lilly said slowly. "What kind of dancing was this?"

I sighed. What had prompted me to ask my sister for advice concerning my growing fondness of the Princess of Genovia? Whatever it was, I was never going to listen to it again.

"It was…I don't know, it was dancing. How else can I describe it?"

"Were you bumping and grinding, or were you just sort of swaying?"

"We were swaying."

"How close were you?"

"We were…close…" I said rather vaguely. I didn't want my sister to know that a toothpick couldn't have squeezed its way between us.

"You like her, don't you?" she asked shrewdly.

"Maybe…" I trailed off. "I've gotta go Lilly, the ball's starting in an hour."

"Alright, but I want you to give me details, okay?"

"Right," I replied and hung up. What I really didn't want to tell her was that I really did like Princess Mia in a very kiss-her-like-there's-no-tomorrow sort of way. I'm pretty sure if the song hadn't ended when it did, I _would_ have kissed her and that would have made this situation entirely more awkward.

I lowered myself into the bathtub of steaming water, rested my head against the edge and sighed. Unfortunately, my relaxation was interrupted by thoughts of, what else? Mia.

Was she affected by me as much as I was affected by her? Did her skin tingle at my touch? Did the scent of my hair send her senses into overdrive and numb her brain? Did my eyes make her stop, as if I were reading her mind, her mood, her feelings? Did my heart beat against her chest, making her own heart beat faster and faster, all the blood rushing to her head? If she did, then she only felt a fraction of what I was feeling. When we got back to the palace, it took a thirty minute cold shower to rid my body of the lingering sensations.

Tonight was the ball being held in my honor and she was supposed to accompany me. I don't know how that was going to be because for the past forty-eight hours, we've been kind of ignoring each other. It might be awkward, but I was gonna do my best to keep the atmosphere light and fluffy. But I'm not promising anything when we dance.

* * *

I was pacing near the entrance of the ballroom. Mia and I were supposed to make a grand entrance and Alfred was going to announce us and everyone was supposed to clap and then Prince Philippe would say something about how it was an honor that I was spending my time in Genovia and I would say that the pleasure was all mine, yadda yadda yadda… Where _was_ Mia?

My question was soon answered when I heard a throat being cleared behind me. I turned around and my knees immediately went weak.

She was absolutely _breathtaking_. Her gown was a shimmer-y dark forest green with thin straps and an A-line skirt. The bodice was embroidered with patterns of curling ribbons and sparkling beads. The skirt parted in the front to reveal a pale green silk sheet.

"You look beautiful," I whispered hoarsely.

She looked pleasantly surprised by the compliment and smiled cautiously. "What, you're not gonna ask me how many times I changed dresses before I decided on this one?"

The tension suddenly disappeared and I smiled at her, remembering our disastrous first encounter. I smirked and said, "I'll just assume you got it right the first time."

I offered her my arm and she took it as we turned to face the entrance to the ballroom. Then the two guards standing next to the doors pushed them open and Alfred declared in a big, booming voice to the Chanel clad crowd, "Announcing Prince Michael Marcel Montague Moscovitz of Monaco and Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo of Genovia."

We walked into the glittering ballroom decorated with lights and silk ribbons tied all along the handsomely decorated walls. Cascading flowers were placed on every conceivable surface of the room and everyone in the orchestra was dressed in identical tuxedoes and black-and-white dresses.

"Wow, your family really went all out," I muttered to her through the side of my mouth.

"What did you expect?" she asked in reply to my statement. "They make more of an effort if you're not in the family."

I chuckled and immediately a portly man with thinning hair approached us. "Oh, hello, Sir Demby," Mia greeted with a practiced smile. "Michael, this is Sir Patrick Demby, Duke of Worthington."

We shook hands and soon there was a receiving line for the two of us. Mia introduced all of us and at the very end of the line was Kenny and Mia's friend, Tina. When the two girls spotted each other, though, they emitted girlish squeals and threw their arms around each other. I watched the exchange in amusement, but couldn't help feeling slightly annoyed at Kenny's glare.

"Look," he said in an undertone while the girls began chatting at a ferociously fast pace, "just because you're Mia's date tonight doesn't mean a thing, okay? She's _my_ girlfriend."

"Well congratulations," I said genially. "I hope that will remain the case after tonight."

**Mia**

"Oh my gosh, he's even cuter in real life! The tabloids really do him no justice," giggled Tina in a conspiratorial whisper.

I giggled too as we both made our way through the crowds. "Is your family here?" I asked.

"Nah, mom didn't want to go and dad thought it'd be pointless without her."

"How come they're letting you come, then?"

"I begged and pleaded."

"That always works," I said with a grin. "Well, anyways, you look absolutely lovely!"

"You should talk," Tina replied airily as she waggled her eyebrows. "He can hardly take his eyes off you."

I snorted. "Well Kenny spends half his time staring at me anyways, I'm hardly surprised."

She chuckled wisely. "I wasn't talking about Kenny, love."

I turned in the direction she pointed and glanced at Prince Michael. When he found me watching him, he gave me a soft smile and a small wave. I waved back and turned to Tina.

"I think he likes you," she declared conversationally.

"Well I think differently," I said lightly, but shaking a little. "He's probably got a girlfriend back at home who's got size six shoes and enough of a chest to keep a strapless gown up."

"You really don't give yourself enough credit."

A minute later, the subject of our conversation walked up to me and bowed deeply. "May I have this dance?"

I curtsied in response and allowed him to take me onto the dance floor. I glanced over my shoulder and twinkled my fingers at Tina who gave me a huge theatrical wink and a double thumbs-up.

We took our position on the floor and I felt the familiar butterflies beating their wings rapidly against the walls of my stomach. His hand on my waist warmed my entire midsection, and my hand just seemed to fit simply and perfectly in his.

"You really do look lovely, you know," he said in a perfectly serious voice. I could really tell he meant it, just by the reassurance flashing in his gorgeous, chocolate-y brown eyes.

"Thank you," I said graciously. "You look amazing yourself."

He grinned. "Yeah, well we're turning heads everywhere. I'm thinking we could get away with anything right now."

I bit my lip at the mischievous glint in his eyes. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"It involves us ditching the rest of tonight and stuffing our faces with mint chocolate chip ice cream in the kitchens while still in our ballroom best."

His laughter was infectious. "I'm in."

I hadn't noticed him pulling me gradually closer to him, but I vaguely registered in the back of my mind that it didn't bother me. I was pressed against him, not as closely as we had been the day before, but we weren't exactly leaving room for the Holy Spirit. He seemed to realize how the atmosphere had suddenly changed between us. "Mia, about the other day—"

"No, you don't have to explain anything," I interrupted quickly. I knew he was going to explain away the situation as something we both hadn't seen coming and it would perhaps be better if we pretended it didn't happen at all. But the thing was, it meant so much to me. When Michael was holding me, I felt like he wanted me for me, not for my money or for my title like Kenny. I didn't want him to tell me that it meant nothing to him because it meant the world to me, no matter how much I wanted to deny it.

His eyebrows knit together. "No, Mia, I really—"

He was interrupted by a loud cough and a tap on the shoulder. Reluctantly, he stepped aside to reveal a fuming, red-faced Kenny. He stiffly bowed to me and walked away.

"Your Highness," Kenny bowed and kissed my hand. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

I rolled when he wasn't looking and graced him with a wide smile when he was. "Of course, Kenny."

He placed his hand on my waist and took my gloved hand in his. Unlike Michael, I was completely uncomfortable in his arms and winced every so often as he trod on my already sore and blistered feet. Six minutes into the dance, he brought me closer and I reluctantly allowed him to do so. "Your Highness, you look absolutely beautiful," he whispered in my ear. I winced at his hot breath.

"Thank you, Kenny," I said, trying to keep the weariness in my voice to a minimum.

"About the other night," he began, but I interrupted him.

"No, Kenny, we don't have to talk about this."

"But I want to," he insisted. "I told you I loved you, but you just hung up. I know what this means."

Suddenly, a bubble of hope swelled inside me. Was he doing what I think he was doing? With any luck, he would.

"You're obviously not sure how to say that you love me," he said in an annoyingly patronizing voice.

My voice was paralyzed with shock. He took advantage of my silence to continue his insane insights. "I understand, Mia, completely. I just want you to know that I'm patient. I'll wait for you, but right now you don't have to say anything. I know how you feel." And after he said that, he kissed me with the ferocity of leopard ripping it's fallen prey to shreds.

I froze, completely at a loss of what to do. After a while, I was aware of the stares of scandalized foreign dignitaries and amused friends. Seconds lapsed into minutes and I couldn't allow him to continue. I forcefully pushed him away and said sternly, "Kenny, I don't love you and I don't think I ever will. It's over between us." And with those last dramatic words, I turned on my heel and stalked away.

**Michael**

I was dying to yell, "JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!"

But I refrained.

Watching Kenny stand there, red-faced and alone in a crowd of other slack-jawed spectators dressed in their evening formal wear brought me a sense of vindictive satisfaction I didn't know I was capable of.

After Mia stormed off into the crowd, her friend Tina scurried after her, grabbing a box of tissues on the way out of the ballroom. While I was watching their progress, I felt something very solid and cold connect to the side of my face with the force of a jumbo jet.

"I told you to stay away from her!" An enraged Kenny roared, his face a vivid purple color. "You ruined something special, you ASSHOLE!"

I staggered a little bit, surprised that a wimp like Kenny could pack such a big punch, and before I knew it, his fist met my face again. A deafening crunch seemed to echo across the ballroom, and it was then when I realized that the orchestra stopped playing and everyone else had stopped talking.

In the corner of my eye, his fist was coming toward me again, but I stopped it with my hand. I wasn't gonna let a little reject like Kenny beat me up, but that didn't mean I was gonna fight back. I would just being showing the entire Genovian court that I was as much a jackass as he was. And besides, this was a new suit; Sebastiano would not approve if I got blood all over it.

He jumped on top of me and started raining punches on every part of my body he could reach. My resolve to refrain from hitting him back was slowly ebbing away, but thankfully two security members pulled him off of me and held his arms back. However, Kenny wasn't finished.

"What now, tough guy? Aren't you gonna fight back? Come on, punk! Show me what you got!" he screamed. "Hit me, I'm right here!"

I shook my head. "Dude, go home, alright? Just go home. You need to calm down."

He tried to launch himself at me, but he couldn't escape from the stranglehold the security guards had on him. "You son of a bitch! You lied to her and now she thinks she doesn't love me!"

There were so many things I could have said to him at that moment, but I just walked away with my head thrown back, trying to stem the flow of blood streaming from my swollen nose. Several servants ran up to me and led me away to administer some first aid while the scuffling and the shouting from behind was obviously Kenny being led away by force.

While Julia was icing my nose, muttering about reckless boys, a voice in the back of my head was rejoicing. Mia broke up with Kenny. What did that mean for me?

**A/N- I love the response from the last chapter! It really motivated me to write this one quickly, but I have to say, this chapter was (pardon my French) a _bitch_ to write. I'm probably gonna go back and edit this one like _heck_.**

**Anyways, no matter how horrible this chapter is, please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6  
Mia**

"You have to go back," Tina encouraged, gently patting my back.

The makeup that Paolo had so meticulously painted onto my face was washed away by the tears I had been shedding for the past half hour. "I can't go back out like this," I sniffed while wiping away the rest of my ruined face. After the break-up with Kenny, Tina followed me to my bedroom with a box of tissues she had the foresight to grab before leaving the ball.

I wasn't really torn up about breaking up with Kenny, because honestly, it was coming. I was more torn up about the fact that he took my first kiss in the most disgusting, most horrific way in front of the Michael and the _entire_ Genovian court.

And in the end, that dance at GiGi's meant nothing to Michael. Nothing. And that's what killed me.

"Mia, I refuse to let you mope up here for the rest of the evening," Tina said in a steely voice that I had only heard her use once before and I'm pretty sure the kid at school who throws a tantrum when they put corn in the chili will never be the same. "You will stop crying, I will fix your makeup and you will march downstairs with your head held high and continue having a good time."

Right when she said that, someone knocked on the door to my chambers. Tina walked to the door and opened it to find Julia standing there with a first aid kit in her hand. She crossed the room and sat down at the foot of my bed where I had thrown myself. "Mia?" she asked tentatively, "the guests have already left, so you don't have to come back down."

I wasn't facing her, but I nodded enough so she could see. She gently patted my head and the weight at the end of my bed vanished. Tina stayed with me the rest of the night to translate my sobs and help me out of my fabulous ball gown and into my oldest, most comfortable pajamas. She gently combed my hair while I cried myself to sleep.

**Michael**

"Mia, what are you doing?" I asked.

She stepped forward, with a playful smile on her face. "I'm visiting," she replied. She came closer at an agonizingly slow pace, until she was standing less than two inches away. "I heard you're injured."

I pulled a suffering face. "I can manage."

She laughed, a wonderful, throaty sound, as she wrapped her arms around my neck. "Well if you can manage, I suppose I don't need to give you my get well present."

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh? And what would that be?"

"This," and before I could say another word, she pressed her lips against mine and the fire that had been in the pit of my stomach since that day at GiGi's rose up with a burning passion. I wrapped my arms around the small of her back and pulled her closer to me, but it wasn't enough.

She pulled away and grinned teasingly. "Better now?"

"Not yet," I replied and kissed her again. She opened her mouth and the kiss deepened. She tasted so fresh and sweet, like warmapple cider on a cold winter's day. She bit my lip and I lost control. With a sudden surge of strength I pushed her onto the bed, our lips never parting.

"Michael," she moaned. My name sounded so good on her lips.

With a sudden concern, I pulled away and looked her in the eyes. "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to—"

I never got to finish what I was going to say because she cut me off with a heated kiss, so full of lust and promise that my own reservations flew out the window.

A sharp rapping interrupted us. We tried to ignore it, but the rapping became louder and soon became insistent pounding.

"Your Highness? Are you still asleep?"

My eyes wrenched open and I found myself twisted in my bed sheets, fighting for air. It was just a dream.

I should've known.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," I grumbled as I threw the sheets aside and swung my feet to the side of the bed, fumbling in a haze for my house slippers.

"Prince Philippe charged me to take care of you," a female voice said from the other side of the door. "Your Highness? Are you alright?"

I threw my bathrobe on over my pajamas and tied it hastily. "I'm okay," I called. Finally situated, I opened the door and found a petite little blonde girl standing in my doorway with a granny cardigan draped over her shoulders. "Um, it's kind of you to take this job and all, but—"

"Oh, your nose looks horrible!" she squealed as she gingerly touched it with her fingers. "You poor thing! Do you need anything? Do you want your pillows fluffed, or an extra blanket or—"

"I'm sorry, but what's your name?" I interrupted.

"Judith Gershner. Do you take any Advil? Tylenol? Let me go get your breakfast—"

I interrupted her again. "Judith, it's okay. I'm in good enough condition to go downstairs and eat breakfast with the royal family."

She bit her lip and she reminded me of Mia biting her lip and my less than decent dream last night. I gulped uncomfortably and said, "On second thought, I'll have my breakfast up here today."

Judith grinned toothily and winked. "Coming right up! You stay in bed, love, and I'll get it for you."

My relief caused me to forget any discomfort I might have felt over her calling me "love." After she left, I turned back into my room and stared at the bed distrustfully. It wasn't a horrible dream, not in the least. But it brought up really, _really_ naughty thoughts that could probably start a war between our two countries.

Not to mention, she apparently didn't want to have anything to do with me romantically, so on that front, I probably didn't have anything to worry about.

**Mia**

"You want me to bring up your breakfast for you?" asked Tina worriedly. "You're still looking a little pale."

"Nah, I'm fine," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. "I'm gonna have to explain to Dad and Grandmère why I left the party sooner or later. I'd rather it be sooner."

"Okay," she began slowly, "but there's something you should know before you go down there."

"What?" I asked as I slipped on a pair of shoes. The look on Tina's face worried me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, "but Prince Michael isn't."

It was like someone had wrapped their hands around my throat and was squeezing as hard as they could. I felt color rush up to my face and I couldn't breathe. Worst case scenarios were running through my head and I was beginning to panic. "What happened to him?" I choked.

"After you broke up with Kenny last night, the two of them got in a fight."

"Fight?" I repeated faintly.

"I don't know all the details, but while you were sleeping Julia filled me in. Apparently Michael's nose is broken, but he didn't sustain any other serious damage. Your father hired a nurse though, just in case."

"Michael's nose is broken?" Oh God, I felt like I was going to pass out. "What about Kenny, what happened to him?"

"I don't know, all I know is that the security guards helped him out of the palace."

The pit of my stomach seemed to have fallen out. Michael wasn't someone who would be pushed around so easily. If Kenny managed to break his nose, God only knows what Michael did to Kenny. "I have to go," I said breathlessly.

"Where are you going?" Tina asked in confusion. "Are you going to visit Prince Michael?"

"No, I'm going to visit Kenny."

Tina's jaw dropped, but I ignored it as I flew to my closet to pick out an outfit. "Mia, you just broke up with they guy."

"So?" I asked distractedly as I pulled out a pair of jeans and a white top.

"Do you know how entirely awkward that would be?"

"I don't care."

"Mia," Tina said in a patient tone that drove me insane, "you can't go to your ex-boyfriend's house the day after you broke up with him. It goes against all the rules of dating, you have to wait at least a month—"

"I have to go."

"No, you don't, and you definitely can't. He needs to be given time—"

I lost it. "LOOK, THIS ISN'T ABOUT THE STUPID BREAK UP, OKAY? HE AND MICHAEL GOT IN A FIGHT! YES, MICHAEL'S GOT A BROKEN NOSE, BUT AT LEAST WE KNOW HE'S OKAY! I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO KENNY, BUT I NEED TO FIND OUT RIGHT NOW! HE MIGHT BE MY EX-BOYFRIEND, BUT HE'S STILL A FRIEND AND I CAN'T LEAVE HIM ALONE WHEN HE COULD BE SERIOUSLY INJURED!"

Tina looked positively frightened. "O-okay," she stammered. "Do you want me to tell your family where you went?"

"Don't bother, Julia will tell them," I muttered, already feeling a little embarrassed for losing it at my best friend. "I'll see you later, okay? Thanks for all your help. You should go home and rest."

"Alright," she said awkwardly. "I'll give you a call later." She kissed me on the cheek and hurried out of the room before I had the chance to explode at her again.

When she was gone, I went to find Julia and told her to tell my family that I was going out to meet some friends for breakfast. They nodded, not believing my lie for a moment, but realizing my need for some space, and for that I was very grateful.

I pulled up to the gate of the Showalter property. I pressed on the intercom and was greeted by their security guard. "Hello, Your Highness. Go right on in."

The gates swung open and I slowly brought my car onto the circular driveway. The guards helped me out of my car and escorted me inside. I stood waiting in the foyer for a moment when Lady Showalter came flying down the stairs. "Oh, Your Highness! I'm so glad you're here."

"Why, is Kenny alright?" I asked anxiously.

"Oh, didn't you hear?" she asked while biting her lips. I was surprised that the woman could even show emotions, what with all the plastic surgery she had undergone, but she continued to surprise me everyday.

"I heard he got into a fight and that Prince Michael's nose is broken, but that's all I know."

She scoffed. "Prince Michael! That brute, he beat up my poor boy!"

I could feel the blood drain out of my face. "Where is he? Can I go see him?"

"Of course, of course! I'll take you to him at once." And without another word, she waved at me to follow her and we flew up the stairs.

When we got to his bedchambers, his mother gently knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" I weak voice answered.

"Kenneth, darling, Princess Amelia is here," his mother said gently.

"Come in," the voice replied.

Lady Showalter pushed the door open and I felt something blocking my windpipe. Kenny lay there with two black eyes, swollen lips, and bandages around his forearms. He probably had more wounds, but his blanket was covering the rest of his body. "Oh, Kenny," I whispered in horror as I rushed to his bedside.

"Hey, Mia," he greeted hoarsely. He tried to smile, but his lips started to bleed again.

"Oh, I can't believe this." My voice was quivering with emotion and horror. I couldn't believe that Michael could do this. This was low, even for him.

"I'm sorry, Mia," he rasped. "I'm so sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Kenny?" I asked shakily. "You didn't do anything."

"Yes, I did," he said thickly through his swollen lips. "I broke Prince Michael's nose, but I didn't mean to. He was beating me up and I was just trying to get him to stop…"

My eyes swelled up in tears. I didn't love Kenny like that, but Kenny was a friend nevertheless and I hated seeing him in pain, a pain no one deserved. "Shhhh, don't worry about it Kenny. I know you didn't mean to."

"I'm so sorry," he repeated.

"It's okay," I said soothingly. I reached up to his forehead and stroked the skin underneath his messy blonde hair comfortingly. "Is there anything I can do for you? Is there anything you want me to get you?"

He shook his head, but winced, apparently from the pain. "I just want you to stay with me. Please?"

I nodded, and behind me I could hear Lady Showalter discreetly bowing out of the room and closing the door behind her.

As Kenny began to drift off into sleep, I continued to rub his forehead as I held his hand. He was almost asleep when he whispered, almost inaudibly, "I love you, Mia."

My heart broke at the vulnerability in his voice, and I knew I couldn't hurt him again. "I love you too, Kenny."

**Michael**

"I'm sorry, but he doesn't want any visitors—"

"I don't care," the angry voice of Princess Mia came ringing out with piercing clarity. "I command you to step aside and let me see him."

"But Your Highness—"

"MOVE!"

"Yes, Your Highness," Judith squeaked and I heard a muffling sound. It appeared that the poor nurse scurried off in fear.

An uncomfortable sense of déjà vu washed over me when Mia opened the door and closed it behind her. "Mia, what are you doing?" I asked in curiosity.

Instead of coming closer with a coy look on her face, however, she stomped to my bedside with a look of pure hatred and anger. "HOW DARE YOU!" she shrieked.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what are you talking about?" I asked in complete bewilderment.

"I can't _believe_ you would do something like that to poor, defenseless Kenny!"

My jaw dropped. "_What?_ Poor, _defenseless_ Kenny? He broke my nose!"

"And you more than repaid him for it!"

I felt my own anger rise despite of myself. "Look, Mia, I know you didn't see anything, but I didn't hit the guy, okay? He hit me! He broke my nose for crying out loud!"

"YOU'RE SUCH A LIAR!" she screamed. I was alarmed to see that tears were welling at the corners of her eyes and were dangerously close to spilling over. "I saw what you did to him! He's lying in bed with two black eyes, a swollen lip, and a sprained wrist! You even kicked him in between the legs, you jerk!"

"WHAT?" I roared. "I didn't even touch the him, Mia!"

"YES YOU DID!" she yelled.

I leapt off my bed and grabbed her by the shoulders, ignoring her struggles against my hands. "Look, Mia, you gotta believe me, I didn't lay a hand on him! He was the one who threw the first and last punch! I didn't even hit him once!"

"I don't believe you!" she sobbed.

"You have to!" I pleaded desperately. "I didn't, I swear!"

"And those black eyes and swollen lip appeared of their own accord, did they?" she shot accusingly. "I can't believe you would pick on him, Michael!"

"I didn't!"

She pulled herself away from my grip and stomped out of my room, slamming the door behind her.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I stared at the motionless door. That definitely didn't happen in my dreams.

**A/N- Now, before you guys start stoning me for that unexpected twist, I would just like to say, Kenny's a crafty SOB, ain't he? Hehehe, please review!**


End file.
